Silent Masquerade. Molly Rice
of perverted rapist, you big baboon!” she screamed, hitting him on the chest with both fists.
He barely felt the impact of her punches, so amazed was he by the amazing array of her emotions. This was no shrinking violet, no helpless little mama’s girl, this...this woman.
It hit him with greater force than her fists. Cara Davis, or whatever her real name was, could be anything—a spy for Alvaretti, a government agent, a Sunday-school teacher, a runaway teenager. Anything she chose to portray, she could carry it off with aplomb. It wouldn’t make it easier to trust her, but, by God, it certainly made it mandatory to respect her.
He grabbed her wrists, only to put an end to the chaotic melodrama. She couldn’t get away, but he could feel how strong she was as she worked to break free of his greater strength.
“I thought you were on their side!” he yelled, shaking her slightly.
A sob caught in Cara’s throat, and she stopped struggling. “Th-their side? Who are they?” The sob became a hiccup.
Bill opened his mouth to tell her and then realized he was right back where he’d begun. He couldn’t tell her. He dropped her wrists.
“I can’t explain. I just wanted you to know it was a mistake on my part and that I was only trying to protect myself.”
She stared at him, squinting. “Protect yourself from me? Did you think I was going to poison the wine?”
“What?” He had to laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation. “No. Not from you. I mean, not from the wine. Well, yes, I guess I thought you were trying to get me drunk so you could...”
“Could what? Have my way with you?” He had to laugh with her at that. The eruption of laughter felt good.
It took a moment to remember their situation.
“Look, let’s drop this. I can’t tell you anything more, and I only came back because I thought it was wrong to leave you helpless like that.”
Cara stepped back and grinned, holding her wrists up. “Helpless? Me? Ha!”
She marched back to the table, plunked down in her chair and picked up her wine. “Think again, big guy. Just because I’m having a few problems at home and I’m short on funds, that doesn’t mean I’m some helpless little wimp. I can take care of myself—and, for that matter, I could probably do a better job of taking care of you than you’re doing.”
“What does that mean?” Bill demanded. What did she know? Who did she know?
“I mean, you seem to think that being a loner is the solution. I say, whoever they are, they’re looking for a loner, a man on his own. With me at your side, you’re part of a couple, and they aren’t looking for a couple, are they?”
It was Bill’s turn to stare. He went over and sank down on her bed, staring at her with his mouth ajar.
“A couple,” he said, his voice heavy with awe.
“Right. Like a disguise. We’d be a disguise for one another. My people won’t be looking for a couple, either.”
Bill ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head, trying to clear it. The problem was that she made some sense, and that made no sense.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Less than an hour ago you thought I was a rapist—and, in fact, I did attack you and tie you up. Why should you trust me now.”
And for that matter, why should I trust you? he thought.
“Or why should you trust me?”
“Are you a mind reader, too?”
Cara shrugged and shot him a complacent grin. “Isn’t the enemy you know safer than the one you don’t know?”
He had to grin, too, at her ridiculous logic. “I think I need that wine now.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but got up to pour it himself. With his back to her, he tried his thoughts out loud. “You’re right about one thing—they know there hasn’t been a woman in my life. They wouldn’t expect me to be involved with anyone this quickly.” He tilted his head back and drank some wine.
“For that matter... Wait a minute.” He spun around. “Are you talking about a permanent arrangement?”
“Define permanent.”
“Like for...weeks, months...whatever.”
She nodded. “Wouldn’t renting an apartment as a couple, looking for work as a couple, be good cover?”
Now he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’re talking...um, separate bedrooms, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And you’d be willing to tie yourself down to me for the duration?”
“Better than you tying me to the nearest chair!”
Bill flinched, and Cara immediately regretted her sarcasm. “Sure, I’d trust you, Bill. You had second thoughts and came back to let me go, didn’t you?”
Bill nodded and took a big gulp of wine. “Let me think this over.”
He went to the door. “I’m going out to get us some coffee. I’m going to need a clear head to give your idea close consideration.”
While he was gone, Cara peered through the drapes, waiting to see him emerge from the front of the motel. Her suggestion had been made out of the blue, without a lot of thought on her part. She really didn’t know anything about him except that he was in terrible trouble, a lot worse than the trouble she’d run from. And she didn’t even know if he was on the wrong side of the law. But even if he was, he meant no harm to her, she was sure, or else he wouldn’t have come back to free her.
He came through the front door just then, and she looked down at the top of his head. Nice hair. And he had good carriage, the sort of thing her mother always noticed in people. She liked his easy stride and the natural way he stopped to look up and down the street. A casual bystander wouldn’t guess he was checking to make sure it was safe.
Altogether, an attractive man, in a dark and dangerous way. Had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire? She remembered then the way her hand had felt in his, and the easy comfort of the hours they’d lingered over dinner...and she knew it was too late to change her mind.
Chapter Four
They were on their way to Santa Cruz.
“Close your eyes and point,” Bill had ordered, holding a map of the Bay area in front of her.
It seemed a good omen that she’d hit on Santa Cruz. She’d become friendly with a woman on the bus who had a small baby. The woman had mentioned Santa Cruz in casual conversation. Cara wondered if she’d somehow been drawn to that spot on the map by suggestion, as if it were a kind of psychic magnet.
But, of course, she didn’t share that thought with Bill. She was learning to guard her wayward thoughts from him. Words like friend, for example, seemed to have an adverse affect on him. The man trusted no one. Not even her, really. One wrong word or gesture and he became hostile and suspicious.
It was going to be interesting trying to live with a man who would find hidden meaning and threat in a wrong-number phone call or the need to run out for milk at eleven at night. Still, she was sure she was right about the situation being mutually beneficial for both of them, and now she could hardly wait to get there, to find an apartment and a job.
She glanced over at him, half hoping she’d catch a glimpse of a similar expression of excitement on his face. He had a great profile—strong, virile, resolute. But there was no sign of excitement. His jaw was set, and his eyes squinted slightly as he concentrated on the road.
Would it be possible to find a way to